Monday, 21 April 2014

Collared: the Full Easter

My Easter and Christmas rig. Jude chose the shirt at The Vill-a-a-age, took the collar off and made provision for the collar studs (thank you, my dear). Bit over the top for normal wear for me. But then being raised from the dead is pretty well over the top, too. Worthy of a shirt with a little extra pizzazz. 

The cross was a gift from The Reverend John Falea of the Solomon Islands. We were class mates at seminary. Those are real dolphin teeth, the "beads" are shell money, the cross is turtle shell with mother of pearl inlay. John's father made it. Thoroughly appropriate for a gospel with sharp teeth that is an absolute treasure. Resurrection and Incarnation worthy wear, indeed. 

I have at least one dear Anglican priest friend whose "inner Pharisee" might stir at the sight of such clerical irregularity. But, since He really is Risen Indeed and a whole world of natural and rational rules and laws were broken in the rising, a little celebratory sartorial boundary pushing can't hurt. Besides, what can they do? Fire me?

One of these days I hope to write some more in my "Retirement and Things I Would, or Would Not, Do Differently" series about wearing clerical collars or not, among other things. I think I'll call it Collared: Confessions of an Introverted? Ordinary? Anglican Clergyman—or something like that.